


Liars and Truths

by agoodwoman



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, MSR, Terma, Tunguska, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension, X-Files Season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-12 23:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10502112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodwoman/pseuds/agoodwoman
Summary: Set during Tunguska & Terma





	1. Liars

If there was one thing Mulder hated, it was a lie. He hated how it felt to be lied to, the way it felt to tell one and the way betrayal felt when it was inserted into his life. He had so much practice with the first and last ones but being the liar was something foreign to him.

Growing up with parents that never asked too many questions about him, he found he could easily tell the truth and not find himself in the hot water of his peers. His father took a sip of his drink and looked over the rim of his crystal tumbler at him disapprovingly. His mother, when she asked anything, turned away from him, looked longingly out the window and nodded her head when he finished talking. It wasn’t that they didn’t care about him but his presence often reminded them of another child they unwillingly lost to a cause neither of them believed in. Imagine growing up on the other side of that mutual feeling from your parents.

Scully was the first person who really questioned his actions and motives when it came to life-threatening antics and always closed her eyes and sighed gratefully when she knew he was okay. That said a lot about his parents and his relationship with his strictly platonic and no-nonsense partner.

After Scully told Mulder that their contact at NASA and one of the heads of the Department of Exobiology, Dr. Sacks, was possibly dead, they were pushed into a corner of where to look next. Mulder knew he needed to possibly abuse the information at his fingertips and ask for help from an unlikely source.

“I’ve never seen this before,” she said in a higher pitched to indicate her tension was high. Scully worried about science worried him. “I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”

“I think you better find out,” Mulder advised and knew the next statement was going to keep them from searching together for a while. “I want you to get an address in New York. You’re going to have to go through the Bureau to get that.”

“Who?”

“Marita Covarrubias,” Mulder told Scully. “She’s the contact I told you about-”

“I know,” she cut him off. “I’ll call you back when I get it.”

“Scully,” he said before she could hang up.

“Yes, Mulder?”

“I’ll… I’ll call you when I know what my next move is,” he said quietly.

“Even if it’s late?” she asked.

In the past, she made her opinions quite clear on being woken up in the middle of the night or too early well known and not favoured.

“Sure,” he promised and the line clicked off.

Twenty minutes later, she relayed the address for him and told him to drive safe. Marita could possibly be willing to help now. It was worth a shot.

As he drove to New York City with a rather ripe smelling Alex Krycek in the next seat, he wondered if this was another folly and he was playing the part of the fool once again. He told himself when he looked up this address that he was trying to stop people from dying. There was too much curiosity and altruism inside him that pushed him forward to try to stop whatever was causing these people to die.

If he was willing to prove or disprove what they found and were led to see, at least he could know a truth and uncover a lie. He didn’t want to go without Scully but he had to try. For all the work that it was to convince her to risk everything and go with him, he was better with her than without.

He had to see that he was taking some big leaps if she was already prepared to dig her heels in and proclaim she might not be able to follow him. All he wanted was to uncover the conspiracies and show the liars for what they were. She had to still want that, even for all it had cost her so far.

Krycek seemed to have an endless number of lives. When the two men were first introduced, the first thoughts he had of his new partner were less than kind and not the way that he distrusted Scully. Krycek inspired something else. Even though Krycek seemed green and keen, he was slippery like a snake. As they searched for Duane Barry, he thought a snake was too good a word to describe him. Alex Krycek was a cockroach. Hard to destroy and immune to everything except a boot splattering his green guts across a white cement sidewalk. He didn’t care what Dr. Bambi told him about cockroaches, they were a disgusting insect and he was still creeped out by them to this day.

Mulder opened his eyes and checked his watch. The clock read 1 a.m. but his body felt as though it was much later. He tried to keep his consciousness from slipping into a slumber and to put his ears alert for possible dangers. It was difficult when he was running on fumes.

If Scully was here, she would have forced them to stop for food before knocking on Marita Covarrubias’ apartment door after midnight. She was so much better at making sure they didn’t fall from exhaustion because when her stomach growled loudly from working too long, she looked up at him over a file, glared at him and told him to order food. A grumpy Scully could be turned around by something savoury or sweet.

Alas, he had nothing to eat except for a few seeds but he was sure Marita wouldn’t be as tolerant of stray shells on her carpet as Scully seemed to be.

This wasn’t the first time Mulder met a contact in the middle of the night but they weren’t generally from a source as shady as Krycek. He was used to sources like Deep Throat and X, men who somehow gave Mulder a sense he could trust them. What Krycek instilled in Mulder was a desire to take a shower to scrub off the uneasy feeling of small legs crawling along his skin.

What Krycek originally tipped Mulder off to was a right-wing anarchist group however it was only so he could show them something otherworldly. Krycek was smart to get him to set up a sting under false pretenses. If Krycek had contacted him about a rock from Mars, he would have called him a liar then telephoned Scully to grill her about what his possible intentions were. After she calmed him down, reigned him in, Mulder would have contacted Krycek and accused him of nasty things until they agreed on a time to meet. Even then, it would have taken someone like Scully, a person of reason and logic, to remind Mulder to get information from people, you needed to play nice.

He liked that about Scully. He liked other things too. He liked her kindness, her wit, her brilliance and her way of making him a better person. There was a lot about her that frustrated him - the science, rationalizations to no end about what something could be instead of possible fantastic paranormal activity - but mostly and completely, he appreciated the heck out of her for continually saving his ass.

Not that he told her too often because their expectations of each other shifted in certain aspects when walls came down. She was an island of a woman and not at all needy like those in his romantic past. She was almost independent to a fault and wary of outsiders the way he was but without the same trust issues and paranoia. They had found that their friendship tore down a lot of the walls that they both put up to protect themselves. He liked how things worked between them as it were. It was tense, fueled and forcing their way forward toward the truth. If he was being honest with himself, which everyone should be in the middle of the night, maybe he wished for more at times but as he sat in the living room of Marita Covarrubias’ apartment, this wasn’t the time to entirely contemplate that.

He checked his watch and it read 1:45 a.m. Whatever Marita was helping him with wasn’t quick. He looked around for magazines but the woman lived the least personal lifestyle he had ever seen. No magazines or books outside of reference and Eastern European literature. Even Scully had the occasional Cosmopolitan and Redbook lying around the house for amusement when JAMA was lacklustre from freakish medical anomalies. Mulder liked to pretend that Scully left the more interesting JAMAs around for him but it was a fantasy he would rather not be quashed by reality. Like how he imagined sometimes she- no Mulder don’t go there.

Think of Scully in her natural state to get back to a less uncomfortable place, he told himself.

It was confusing to think of her in desirable ways, undressed and wantonness while he was trying to work. It interfered with what his mind was trying to work through and he pushed those thoughts further away.

At the current moment, Scully was working towards scientific truths that would help them validate their work. A rock from Mars with supernatural properties would fund the X-Files office for years to come and stop the incessant questions about why they asked for more than sixty eight dollars per night combined for separate rooms at flea bag motels. The lack of care the FBI gave to the agents in its employment could be taken to OSHA but at the moment, Mulder was too busy trying to find an actual werewolf, a shapeshifting alien or a rock from Mars that could prove what they were doing was worthwhile.

Marita was in the other room trying to find information for him pertaining to this bullshit rock from space. He thought when coming here, if he was going to prove it was all fake, she would have something for him. The lack of information she could find would prove the betrayal of Krycek and he could at least bring a cockroach under a steel-toed boot to splatter its gooey innards.

Mulder closed his eyes again and when he opened them another forty minutes had passed. He could hear Marita talking in Russian over the phone in the next room.

He drifted off again and sleep invaded his consciousness. He had showed up at her door after half past twelve and his body was losing the rush from the adrenaline of the search. He needed a hot shower, a good night’s rest and food that didn’t come prepackaged in salted shells. He knew all this was prevalent in his mind because as he slept Marita’s impractical white chair, his mind played visions of turkey club sandwiches and french fries, a cold beer and Scully sitting across the table at an airport lounge from him.

His mind was replaying their meal before they flew out of Traverse City, Michigan. She had bruises around her wrists and was nursing a glass of wine as they waited for their plane after another delay. He wanted to tell her a lot of things, about how fear of losing her had overwhelmed him that day. Instead, he lied to himself and her as he lined up his french fries on the edge of her salad plate to entice her to eat something more substantial.

“Eat up, Scully,” he enticed her and waved a salty fry in front of her salad.

She took another sip of her wine and sighed. “I’m not hungry.”

“If you don’t start eating them, I’ll throw them…” Mulder looked around the restaurant and spotted a well-dressed older couple two tables over. “I’ll throw them at that couple across from us and blame you.”

She picked up a fry of the edge of her plate and used his ketchup he had been double dipping his own fries in and smiled at the intimacy of the act.

“What?” she asked as the ketchup covered potato hovered at her lips.

Mulder shook his head with a smile and conceded to the victory of getting her to put more in her body than lightly dressed lettuce.

That was a tough case for both of them. He wondered if she lied to herself about her own fears or if she saw someone. Once, during the Pfaster investigation, she stopped to see Karen Kosseff and she told him about it later but he wasn’t sure if those visits became more frequent during their partnership. For all he confessed to her about how he felt and the drips and drabs she gave him, there seemed to be a lot about her private life he was unsure of.

As he drifted into a more conscious state, he began categorizing what he knew about her and the questions that remained unanswered. Scully in her private life was quiet, she appreciated different music and ate healthy. She tidied her kitchen after every meal, swept the floors and wiped the counter whether Mulder was there egging her to stop while he tried to get them out the door for a case or not. He was certain that she was on a sabbatical from church since her disappearance, however he knew she prayed (usually on bumpy plane rides) and went to confession when harrowing cases rocked her foundation. Still, she was an island. Mulder wondered if she saw him as a shipwrecked man who just washed up onto her shores or she recognize his self-reliance as well.

His eyes opened slowly and he wondered if he should check his phone for missed calls from Scully. It was well after 3 a.m. He snorted at the idea anyone could see him as self-reliant versus a personality imposed loner. A loner who liked spending time with a small red-haired scientist who had an aptitude for arguing everything that came out of his mouth.

Marita was speaking quietly in English on the phone and he closed his eyes again as he wondered if she had tracked the origin of the rock closer than they originally thought. Mars, Russia and perhaps a manufactured hoax in the United States?

“Agent Mulder?” a silky voice woke him.

He turned to her and must have looked visibly surprised. Why hadn’t she put on clothes since he arrived? She was still in her robe and he felt uneasy at their proximity. Scully always insisted on getting dressed within minutes of Mulder arriving, much to his dismay. His conscious mind told himself to stop comparing everyone to Scully. At least he hadn’t gotten as far as asking her. That would be impolite.

“The diplomatic pouch travelled an apex route to the Russian province of Krasnoyarsk,” she told him.

“Krasnoyarsk?” he repeated.

“Port of entry was the city of Norilsk,” she continued and he began to realize how fluent her ability in other languages was. Probably a pre-requisite for working with the Special Representative of the Secretary-General.

“That’s just north of Tunguska,” Mulder noted as his mind began to connect the dots.

Tunguska would be his next stop and point of investigation. His Russian was bad but with the right pocket dictionary and some bribe money, he was sure he could get himself around enough to see what was going on.

“Tunguska?” she asked.

The smell of her perfume wafted into his nose and he decided it was not his favourite. It was too sleek, too expensive and reminded him of the women his mother used to push him towards at Christmases home on the Vineyard while whispering about their excellent pedigrees.

“Yeah,” he said as he began to try to stand up and search for where he left his phone.

He needed to get out of there. His mind began racing about what to do next. Call Scully, buy some clean underwear and toiletries on the way to the airport, get a ticket out of JFK, and eat. Maybe leave some sunflower seeds in the car for Krycek so he doesn’t die. Not that the final part wouldn’t be doing the world a favour.

“What are you looking for?” she asked from the floor where she woke him.

“My cell phone,” he said as he searched his jacket. “I gotta book myself on a flight to Krasoyarsk, Russia.”

“I can help you, Agent Mulder,” she offered.

“Find my cell phone?” he asked as he put on his coat.

“No,” she said quickly. “With cover credentials. A diplomatic passport. A visa.”

“Why?” he asked as he adjusted his jacket collar. “Why are you helping me?

If she was another liar, he didn’t have time for it.

“Because I can,” she said simply. “Because there are those of us who believe in you… believe in the search for the truth.”

He heard the earnestness in her voice and wanted to trust her. People in positions such as hers rarely helped without wanting something in exchange.

“How long will it take?” he asked.

“How long do you have?” she countered with a hint of something else in her voice.  
  
Mulder checked his watch impatiently. She left him standing in her living room to contemplate the offer and he closed his eyes. His mind reminded him of his immediate needs again. He needed food, a shower and sleep. He needed to talk to Scully.

He approached the room where she had moved to and heard her placing a call for a cover credential for him. Before they could exchange niceties about how good it was to see each other again, he left her apartment. Neither of them would have meant it anyway.

In the elevator, he tried to call Scully. No answer. She was probably sleeping before she went in to take a closer look at that fucking rock from Mars. He needed her to reassure him she was getting answers because travelling to Russia without her wasn’t his first choice. If he could pick a travel companion, he wouldn’t be picking the cockroach with his stupid ass haircut just because he spoke the language. He would be getting her on the next flight so she could explain to him the science behind everything they were going to see.

Mulder didn’t like to tell her this but knowing the science behind the scary shit they were facing was like a security blanket. He was heading to the unfriendly red ground with a man who made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

He left her a message as he purchased tickets for himself and Krycek.

“Leaving your wife a message?” Krycek muttered under his breath.

“She should know where I am if I don’t come back,” Mulder explained.

“Aren’t you worried she’s going to report it to your boss and get you hauled out of there?” Krycek sneered.

“I stopped distrusting her a long time ago,” Mulder said as he handed over his credit card. “You would understand why if you had an ounce of honesty in your body but so far all I detect is lies.”

“Everyone lies, Mulder,” Krycek retorted. “Even Scully.”

Mulder looked at the man he was once assigned to work with. “Not to me.”

Krycek shrugged. “I’m sure she still harbours some frustrations about her sister.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Mulder reminded him and Krycek shrugged. “Scully would tell me. She isn’t a resentful person.”

“So what is she?” Krycek asked.

“Honest,” Mulder told him as he signed the receipt.

“Are you honest with her?” Krycek asked.

Mulder had no idea why but he looked at him and nodded. Telling Krycek anything personal was a mistake.

“Even about what happened with your blonde friend from the Secretary General?” Krycek asked referring to Marita.

“ _Nothing_ happened,” he said quickly with a roll of his eyes as he took the tickets from the agent. "She's a contact, nothing more."

“You sound like a man who’s lying to himself,” he muttered.

“Do women you go to bed with call you by your formal title - oh _wait_ , you’re not an agent with the FBI anymore. You’re just a man for hire, looking to make a buck and working for the people who _killed_ my father,” he dug at Krycek. “I don't know why I have to tell you but I’m not interested in going to bed with someone like Marita Covarrubias.”

“What’s that mean? What's someone like her?”

“She’s like you,” Mulder replied and Krycek grinned a little. “Maybe not a cockroach but she’s working with some people you know. Not my type.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He probably was a little but it wouldn't help Marita or Mulder to hop into bed together. There was also a lack of attraction on Mulder's part, so that played into his reluctance to care when she walked around in silk robes and spoke to him in breathy tones.

"I wouldn't want to undermine my reputation by thinking the way you do," Mulder jabbed back. “I’m trying to find answers, that's my priority."

"We should all be so noble," Krycek sneered.

Mulder pushed on Krycek's back for them to keep moving toward their gate. "Let’s go cockroach.”


	2. Truths

The common misconception in life was the fact that there was more than one version of the truth. Perception of an event did not make any personal truth more right than the other. When it came down to it, facts were facts. Feelings often sullied truths with impressions rather than logic and reason. Science was all about logic and reason, deduction and analysis. Theories would be proved or disproved so a scientist was left with facts. This was a world Dana Scully felt the most comfortable in.

When she first discovered her interest in science, it was as a young girl when her teacher showed her the single-celled organisms inside pond water. She had been running through that small body of water at lunch time, laughing and getting drops into her mouth with a carefree attitude that children were only capable of possessing. When her teacher took an eyedropper full of that water, put it onto a glass slide, pressed a plastic film over it, young Dana Scully was captivated at the precision of it. Her teacher brought her over to the microscope to view what lied beneath. To this day, she could still remember how she felt completely fascinated at what she saw more than sick unlike her classmates. 

Tiny beings were living inside that water she had disrupted without a second thought. Her heart didn’t worry for them. This wasn’t like the snake that was killed at the hand of her and her brothers. This was a new world of information, life and facts she could wrap around her like a warm blanket. Certainty in life at knowing what it was made of. Truths, answers and disclosure to mysteries that had eluded her curious mind.

As she looked around the painted cinderblock cell she was currently sitting in, she thought in no way how her career would have taken her to this point but here she was. A buzzing sound from down the hall told her someone was being let out and the shouting echoed to the spaces between her door and the frame. 

When she chose medicine as a career path, she felt that there was a truth to knowing what was inside the human body because ultimately, it could be any one of those things that took a life away from its mortal shell. She found a comfort in knowing about death from science. Her faith in God told her she would have an eternal life through faith and prayer. Both of these things seemed to balance each other in her mind as she searched for answers in her life. 

When life lead her to the FBI, she found herself standing in a basement office trying to argue with a man who believed in extra terrestrials. What she never believed her life could become was the one she was living now. Facing off against senators and congressmen as they hid their knowledge of conspiracies against the American people. They masked their concerns for people who had been murdered to find out how close they had come to the truth. 

If she was anyone else, she would confide in a friend but she didn’t have many of those left. Mulder was the only person she spoke to on a regular basis and outside of work there was just her mother. It sounded like a lonely life but she chose it. As a child, she made the decision not to let people in too much because the unbearable pain that accompanied their departure. This self-imposed distance made her an island among her family members and friends. It wasn’t until meeting Mulder, who built a bridge after declaring distrust and invading her personal space with his presence and theories, that she felt the loneliness of her isolation lessen and she felt comforted in the friendship they built over the years. Scully found she rather appreciated how much he pushed to get past her walls as she had with him. 

There was no sense to feel sorry for someone like Mulder who was an intelligent, grown adult capable of making his own choices. He chose the law, he chose psychology and he chose to pursue the truth. He was charming, charismatic and slightly obsessed with an event that rocked him as a child. Against everything Scully would expect from herself, she believed him when he told her as she laid on a hotel bed in Oregon at the beginning of their partnership that aliens had abducted his sister. 

His career path was akin to her choices except she chose a different kind of science. Psychology was a lot of grey area whereas the hard science involved in medicine was black and white. Cause of death might be a hundred different things but it always came down to one overall cause, something her mind would be able to figure out and piece together like a puzzle.

Right now those puzzles she had looked so hard at were doing less for her career and her relationship with Senators in Congress. The smell of bleach filled her nose and she wondered if there was a reason this cell had been cleaned so thoroughly before her arrival. She ran her fingertips along the edging on the fleece blanket and gripped at the material as she willed herself to calm down. This wasn’t the worst situation she had ever found herself in. 

She believed in Mulder’s convictions and slowly his search became hers. So far, she didn’t resent him for it. After her own disappearance, she had no choice but to commit herself deeper into that search. It had cost her three months of missing time, the life of her sister and the invasion of privacy when she found a chip was put in the back of her neck for Lord knows what reason why.

All of these things could easily discourage a less determined person but not her. Dana Scully was too committed to finding out the answers to what happened to her, her sister and these other women she met in Pennsylvania. At the hands of men in power, they were victims of the same crime and if she could do anything with her badge now, it would be to stop them. The probability of bringing them to justice was beginning to feel futile.

While she harboured some harsh fantasies about hurting Krycek for what he had done in the past, she knew that Mulder couldn’t beat the man within an inch of his life. It made Mulder no better and he was so much more than that cockroach of a man could ever hope to be. She owed it to Mulder to help him continue to be a good man and to search for the truth. 

It felt more fleeting of a possibility in a warehouse after discovering Krycek was involved in the ‘pathetic revolutionary’ potential bombs. 

“You can’t bring these men to justice,” he said as though they should have known that. “They’re protected. The laws of this country protect them in the name of national security. They know no law.”

As their investigation continued, she began to realize how right Krycek was. 

Dr. Sacks at NASA Goddard stood in the Exobiology lab looking at the rock they presented to him and confirmed Krycek’s claims.

“This rock contains what are known as polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons fitting the approximate description of those in fragments of a meteorite found in the ice fields of Antarctica,” Dr. Sacks explained.

A billion year old rock from Mars had been in her hands and the possibility that a core sample would hold fossilized remains would go a long way into validating her work with Mulder. As a scientist, she was intrigued to discover the truth behind it or expose it as another lie. 

What she seemed to be surrounded by was powerful men in the government who have no respect for the law and flout their impudence toward the laws she was sworn to uphold. She had to disagree with Krycek about one thing. There was a truth. With all that had happened, there was a truth that she was determined to find. 

She was exhausted from their constant search for the truth, lies passed off as the company policy and murderers getting away with their crimes. Her sense of righteousness to serve her country and belief in what was good could only take so much. She was sitting in a jail cell, about to go before a Senate committee to discuss why she wouldn’t confirm Mulder’s whereabouts and put him in danger. 

So far, they had already been led down a path she wasn’t sure Mulder could come back from, especially if she couldn’t follow him. If it was up to her when all this began, she would have forgotten what Krycek was leading them towards. It was the reason Dr. Sacks had been exposed to the virus and endangered the lives of others. 

Dr. Sacks was in a paralytic coma from the toxins released from this rock. While she could study the evidence and deduce an answer, she needed Mulder to help her put the pieces together with a theory she might never have thought to start from.

The problem was that he was willing to believe a man like Alex Krycek as a source.

“What he’s given us, Mulder, is a rock,” Scully reiterated to Mulder in their basement office at the FBI.

Krycek was a liar, a murderer and a cheat. Someone might call him a rat but her brain inserted a less flattering descriptor. Alex Krycek was a cockroach, a bug who deserved nothing more than to be stomped on yet somehow escaped the hard and fast boot of the perils of his line of work too many times. Mulder might have a different theory after spending time with Dr. Bambi but to this day, he vehemently hated all bugs so he might appreciate the analogy of Krycek. 

“Who wants to expose the same men that we do and will go to any lengths to succeed,” Mulder replied as he walked past her. 

It worried her that Mulder would go to those lengths as well. 

“What I’m worried about is you, Mulder and how far you’ll go,” she said to him. “And how far I can follow you.”

They had a standstill of quiet communication. Somehow they managed to exchange words with a glance. He was so certain that the rock was an answer beyond his search for extra terrestrial life. If believing in the same things as Mulder, their work days would be a lot different.

Mulder called her from the airport casually as though he hadn’t just landed from a twenty five hour flight. He was in Russia and was surprisingly letting her know what he was doing. 

“Miss me?” he teased when she answered her phone on the first ring.

“No,” she lied. “I thought it was my mother.”

Truth be told, she had hoped it was him. Her mind continued to wander to him as her mind tried to focus on the articles in front of her. She was sitting at her coffee table with Antarctica dig site maps in front of her and research on past testimonies on discoveries of rocks from Mars. 

“Where are you going next?” she asked and he sighed. She could picture him rubbing his hand down his face tiredly as he looked around the airport and tried not to answer that question. “Are you okay?”

“We’re heading to Tunguska,” Mulder told her. “It should be easier with Krycek knowing the language.”

She scoffed.

“Unless you changed your mind about following me this far and you have some surprise Russian along with German up your sleeve?” he teased.

The airport announcement cut through the line and Scully listened to a thick accent announce the departure of the next flight to New York City.

“I don’t,” she said quietly.

“Shame,” Mulder sighed. “You’d be much more fun sharing a train bunk with than Krycek.”

“You’re going by train?” she clarified.

“Trains are a big part of the Russian transport system,” Mulder explained.

“Why did you take him with you?” she asked.

“His parents are Cold War immigrants,” he told her but she wouldn’t trust Krycek to protect Mulder when push came to shove. The man would sooner sell his mother to the consortium if it meant his own personal gain. “I think he’ll be able to help me.”

“Be careful there, Mulder. You don’t know where his true allegiance lies,” she warned again.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he promised. 

“Don’t go,” she urged him. “Get on that flight they just announced and leave Krycek there.”

“Call if you can,” she urged.

“Will do,” he promised. “Bye.”

She stared at the phone after he hung up and got up from her coffee table to get herself a glass of wine. She would need it tonight before the firing squad tomorrow.

They called it a Senate Subcommittee on Intelligence and Terrorism but it really was a way to paint Mulder with a bad brush and frame him for a crime he didn’t commit. The man who broke into Skinner’s apartment, fought Krycek while he was handcuffed to a railing and died from a twenty story fall was possibly a side effect of Mulder locking Krycek out there but he shouldn’t be blamed for it.

“There is a culture of lawlessness that has prevented me from doing my job,” she told Sorenson as he narrowed his eyes on her. “The real target of this committee’s investigation should be the men who are beyond prosecution and punishment. The men whose secret policies are behind the crimes that you are investigating.”

Sorenson lectured her as though she was caught pilfering money from the collection plate. “You have a legal obligation to answer the question posed to you. Now, either you tell us what you know about Agent Mulder’s whereabouts, or you’ll be held in contempt of Congress.”

She spoke her denial to comply so clearly before a U.S. Marshall escorted her from the subcommittee floor and to her cell. As she was being escorted out, she made eye contact with Skinner and refrained from appearing regretful for her actions. He actually looked apologetic for what she was going through, which was a surprise.

Two hours after her ‘imprisonment’ in the cement cell with a thick door and she had the time to contemplate her decision, another Marshall came by with food and asked her if she wanted anything. 

This certainly wasn’t the kind of cells she was used to visiting Mulder in but definitely not something she might mention to her mother at the next Sunday dinner.

“I need books,” Scully asked as she looked at the tray of food they set on the small desk. “Research information for my testimony.”

“I can put in a request,” replied the Marshall, who’s ID badge said J. Halliwell with her photo above it. 

Mulder was better at finagling phone calls, connections and items when inside a jail cell. He had more practice at it. Halliwell must have sensed her frustration. 

“If you eat, they’re more likely to get you what you need,” the Marshall told her.

Scully sat down at the desk and looked at the sandwich, fruit, yogurt and coffee they brought her. She took a bite of the turkey sandwich and looked up at Halliwell. 

Halliwell handed her a note pad and pen from her jacket. “Write down what you need.”

Scully swallowed the dry ingredients and took a sip of the coffee. “Thank you.”

From her cell, there wasn’t much she could do to help Mulder now, except to deny testimony to his whereabouts as she tried to stall the committee Senator Sorenson had gathered to investigate the man’s death outside Skinner’s apartment. The real perpetrator to the crime they were investigating wasn’t Mulder and everyone knew that by revealing Mulder’s location, she wouldn’t be bringing anyone to justice.

The second book she requested proved to be the most helpful about Variola viruses written by the latest victim of this cover up, Dr. Bonita Charne-Sayer. Since Skinner arrived at her apartment the previous day, her mind quickly made connections from the virus in the rock to what Dr. Charne-Sayre had written about. Something in this book had to lead her to some connections of what it could be.

Smallpox is an acute, contagious disease with two main forms, Variola major and Variola minor, both of which cause similar lesions.

Scully knew about these diseases from medical school. Nothing what they had seen in the past was like smallpox however Dr. Charne-Sayer’s mind would be able to see past the facts and quickly to a connection.

Bronchopneumonia, sudden onset of influenza-like symptoms, characterized by fever, malaise, headache, prostration and sever back pain. Sometimes these symptoms lead to abdominal pain and vomiting.

Dr. Sacks had not presented any of these symptoms however there wasn’t much she could tell from outside his biohazard suit. Maybe it was the activation by heat that the virus that infected Dr. Sacks was attracted to. When he was cutting into the rock, Dr. Sacks used a hot blade and the core sample splattered on him. Its next reaction was to seek out another warm body. 

If the pouch was intended to reach Dr. Charne-Sayre, she must have been able to understand how to deal with the rock and its contents. She would have known how to prevent infection in herself and what to do with what was inside. 

It was several hours after she had been given her requested research before Skinner came to visit. Her boss thought her only motive was to protect Mulder and his location so he could complete his search into the origin of the infected rock. It was clear to her now that the Senate subcommittee were working to cover up whatever this rock from Mars was. 

If the situation was any different, she might have been able to be excited about holding an actual artifact from another planet that held a great significant piece of for the scientific community but she was too busy trying to find out what was happening. 

When Skinner arrived at her cell, she stood up quickly from her bed and tried to ignore their setting.

“You holding up?” 

He stood with his arms at his sides and looked at her uncomfortably. Skinner looked at her like he had a number of times. Like she was risking her career, yet again, for Mulder. 

Scully crossed her arms under her breasts with her highlighter still in hand. “I’ve got plenty to read.”

Skinner glanced behind him and sat down on the desk she had been using before she moved to the bed. She sat down on the edge of the thin mattress and tried to ignore the metal railing digging into the bottom of her thighs. 

“I can understand you protecting Agent Mulder but…”

“It’s not just Agent Mulder that I am protecting, sir,” she corrected him.

“Then what are you doing?” he asked.

“We were called before this committee to answer questions about a murder - about an intercepted diplomatic pouch - a pouch that was to be delivered to a prominent doctor - a woman who is now dead, as is the man who was delivering said pouch - the contents of which have infected an exobiologist with a paralyzing toxin,” she rambled. This was a long story to get to what they weren’t moving past and she was going to make her point. “Yet, what are we stuck on here? The whereabouts of Agent Mulder.”

“You mean it’s the wrong question,” he guessed.

“Several of the men on this committee are lawyers. It is my experience that lawyers ask the wrong questions only when they don’t want the right answer,” she replied.

“Unless Agent Mulder has already found the answers they’re looking for,” Skinner deduced.

“Or someone wants to make sure that he doesn’t find out,” she offered.

“These are Congressmen we’re talking about, Agent Scully,” he reminded her.

“I know that, sir,” she began. “And it’s my natural inclination to believe that they are acting in the best interest of the truth… but I am not inclined to follow my judgement in this case.”

“You’re going to follow Agent Mulder’s?” he assumed. “Is that it?”

It was Scully’s impression that A.D. Skinner was there to talk sense into her but when he left, he was more solidified to helping her. At least she might have another person in her corner while Mulder was still looking for answers.

In their line of work, they found so much of it to be a lie covering up a version of the truth and she was tired of being lied to. She wouldn’t be party to another cover up or the campaign of misinformation to the American public.

When the recent round of obituaries arrived for Scully to look through, she had Dr. Charn-Sayer’s complete CV brought to her cell. She made a connection to the Convalescent Home and a recent death reported with alarming details. 

After her dinner tray was delivered, an oversized white cotton shirt with “INMATE” across the back, a pair of grey cotton jersey pants, and white socks was handed to her. Halliwell told Scully she would have items from home for the next day before lights out and suddenly Scully worried she was going to be there for longer than she thought. 

Her worry must have been evident and Halliwell explained to Scully that a deputy from the U.S. Marshall’s office would enter her apartment, pick up toiletries, clothing and underwear for her to wear to stand trial. 

A checklist was presented to Scully to tick off what she needed.

“Usually when Mulder is held in a cell overnight, I’m the one picking up these things for him,” Scully mused as she ticked off the items. “I appreciate this.”

“Who is Mulder?” Halliwell asked as she put the checklist back on her clipboard with the others. “You’ve mentioned him a few times. Boyfriend that rubbed off on you to get you locked up for contempt?”

Scully shook her head. “Not a boyfriend. He’s my partner.”

Halliwell nodded. “And you’re in here because he’s someplace he shouldn’t be and you won’t tell them where he is?”

“Long story short, yes,” Scully confirmed and felt glad to have someone to talk to since she couldn’t call her mother about this. 

She wasn’t wary of other jurisdictional law enforcement the way Mulder was. This woman was friendly, gave advice and didn’t give Scully the impression she was reporting to anyone about their conversations. Usually, when it came to trusting people, she had gut feelings. It was how she knew she liked Mulder right away.

“Give them hell, tomorrow,” Halliwell said with a wink and Scully smiled at her. “Your things should be here before lights out.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

Scully changed slowly out of her suit and into the provided uniform she was to wear to sleep in. She thought about telling Mulder how nice the imprisonment was compared to what she had seen from his stints with the Army, CIA and local jails. She had the privacy of four walls and the food was a little better than most of the diner’s Mulder took her to.

As she folded her undergarments into a ball into the bottom of the clothing bag she was given, then hung her suit on the back of the door, she thought about why she was doing this. 

Searching for the truth with Mulder seemed to be all she knew these days. Whenever she came close to quitting, something pulled her back in. He made a speech, he took a risk and he looked at her with longing for her help. Ignoring all the touches and brushes against each other, she quelled the tingling inside her belly and felt compelled to help him. She was determined not to quit until they knew something about what had happened to their sisters, why and what this was all for. 

As she pulled back the sheets on the bed and laid down with her right arm behind her head on the pillow, she thought about Mulder. She hoped she hadn’t heard from him because his investigation brought him to an answer but she feared the worse. She feared he hadn’t called or tried to make contact because something bad had happened and she couldn’t help him from in here.

If it wasn’t for justice, she wanted the lies and cover-ups to what was happening to stop. She wanted for her mind to put the last piece in a puzzle that she had been building since she heard the words “FBI’s most unwanted.” Being assigned to work with Mulder had opened a series of doors to questions she wanted answered and as she felt the stress of the day begin to take over her body. If she slept, her mind might stop her from worrying about Mulder for a moment.


	3. Half-Truths

The convenient part about your family caring little about your well-being, your work or your whereabouts was that when you call them at six o’clock in the morning via collect call to purchase a plane ticket from Russia to Washington, there are no questions asked. Instead of a hundred questions about what he was doing in Russia or why the call was collect, his mother sighed and asked him to hold on while she got her pocketbook.

Mulder looked around the airport, covered in mud and desperately needing something resembling an American meal. He wanted a shower and a good nights rest in his own bed. He was craving the salty familiarity of sunflower seeds with a newspaper in front of him in their office as Scully worked on agreed upon notes for Skinner. First, he wanted coffee, eggs, bacon and some white toast that had been over buttered enough to get a reaction from Scully.

_Scully._

Mulder’s mind drifted to his partner as he waited for his mother to get her wallet. She sounded so concerned on the phone and he tried to picture her at her coffee table with tea cooling in a cup and saucer next to a stack of research. She probably had on a loose sweater and glasses with the fireplace going to keep her apartment too hot for his taste but to prevent the goosebumps she seemed to always be fighting.

 _Dangerous thoughts you’re having there Mulder_ , he thought to himself as he willed his body to cool down. Thinking about her when he was exhausted usually shined a light on their differences but in all the ways that worked for a man and a woman. More crudely, he thought about how parts of his body could fit inside her body.

It was difficult not to think of her in desirable ways when he was so grateful to be alive. His body and hormones were out of whack from the sleep deprivation and the Russian camp trying to break his will and turn him into an experiment. Whatever they did to him during that prison camp had made his body feel on edge. The only think he could liken it to was how he felt after his last round of travel vaccinations.

He was thinking of the resilience of being an American and thought something nostalgic but his mind went back to his partner who he had not been able to contact since he made it to safety. The first three attempts via collect to get her on the phone had failed and he thought about calling Mrs. Scully but decided against it. Talking to her mother would certainly spark questions and worry as to why her daughter wasn’t answering the phone and he really didn’t want to do that to either Dana or Mrs. Scully.

 _Dana_ , he thought as her given name rolled around in his head.

It was such a strange notion to think of her as this other woman who people called by her first name who shopped thoughtfully for the well-fitted pastel suits she had taken to wearing recently. Dana was a woman who carefully sampled makeup before settling on a colour he learned was called All Heart matte and cost $21 from Clinique. That was something Mulder couldn’t picture Scully doing until he actually saw her looking at a department store display as she searched for her shade. In the beginning of their partnership, he looked at pieces of Scully’s life that he didn’t recognize and remembered that she was a woman away from the FBI and medicine. The basic male side of Mulder wanted to invade that part of her and do other things with it besides work but those were fantasies for a different life.

Their life was about the work, discovering the underlying truths of this cover-up and how it could possibly endanger the lives of the American people.

He just needed to get back to Washington, tell Scully all he had seen and further this investigation. He needed to find out more about this rock before it could be hidden from the public again and he couldn’t do that alone. There was nothing he could solidify without her input because what he saw felt out of focus until she found a way to unblur the lines and make it clear.

“Fox?” his mother started. “Do you just need the number for my credit card?”

“No, Mom,” he said. “I need you to call the airline and purchase a ticket for me to get home. I’m in Kranoyarsk.”

“Call Russia?” she asked.

“ _No_ ,” he said, forcing himself to stay calm and patient. “If you could call the airline in Washington and I can pick up my ticket from the desk here.”

His mother told him she would call right away and hung up without asking him of his well-being. He walked across the airport to the main ticket counter with his passport and wallet that he stored in a rental locker at the arrivals gate when he and Krycek landed there three days ago.

Mulder might be impulsive but he had the foresight to leave his ID where it couldn’t be confiscated by someone hoping to keep him there. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the foresight to keep a credit card with him that he could use to get home since he had nearly maxed out the one he had used to purchase a second ticket for his cockroach passenger.

“All set, Mr. Mulder,” the ticket agent said as she tucked his ticket into his passport. Her eyes glanced up to the gash on his forehead before taking in the rest of his dishevelled appearance. “Your plane departs in an hour.”

He tapped his passport and ticket on the desk before tucking it inside the borrowed jacket he had from the people who helped him escape the one-armed-bandits. “Thanks. Is there a gift shop or something once I get through security?”

“There are gift shops that sell a number of items like toiletries... There are bathrooms in the international departures gate,” she told him with an obvious tone.

“Thanks,” he said and headed in the direction he needed.

He had enough room on his credit card to purchase a new T-shirt, sweatshirt, socks, deodorant, toothbrush, and a coffee once he made it through the security check. He contemplated getting a razor and shaving cream but nothing he bought at an airport would be half as satisfying as shaving at his own sink with his Gillette razor at home.

As he stood at the sink with his toothbrush in his mouth using the bathroom soap to wash his torso, he told himself this was just a Band-Aid solution and he could take a proper shower once he was back at Hagel Place. Being in an international departure wing of the airport, there weren’t any showers to clean up in and Mulder was forced to bird-bath it while thinking of himself as a train station hobo.

The soap dripped onto the floor next to his shoes and he frowned at the mess he was creating. Home was close and he just needed to tough it out for another day. He could work out the frustrations his body was reminding him of when the idea of his partner flittered into his mind and he would be fine to work alongside her, ignoring the attraction between them.

“What are you doing?” a little boy asked as he stood at the other end of the row of sinks with a toy plane in one hand and a curious look on his face.

He was probably five years old and obviously American with his New York Knicks T-shirt on under his open windbreaker.

“Making sure I don’t get put in the cargo hold with all the animals,” Mulder said as he took a soapy hand and washed his underarm. “Nice shirt.”

“I don’t know. The Knicks are really eating it this year,” the little boy sighed as he leaned against the counter and Mulder assumed that was a reactionary response the little boy heard from an adult.

"You’re thinking of last year,” Mulder countered.

“You think Van Gundy can lead them to the finals?” the little boy asked.

“Definitely,” he said assuredly and the little boy contemplated the conviction from this stranger.

“ _Cody_!” a woman called from the doorway of the bathroom. “ _Cody_!”

“Gotta go,” the little boy said pointing to the door.

“Shouldn’t you wash your hands first?” Mulder recommended.

“I didn’t go pee. I just wanted to get away from my mom and the new baby,” Cody explained. “We just got her and all she does is cry.”

He thought about how resentful he was when Samantha was born. “They get to be pretty fun when they start crawling and stuff. Right now just play peekaboo and make her laugh. Your mom will like that.”

“Yeah,” Cody said doubtfully.

“Cody!” the woman called again.

“Coming, Mom!” he called back and gave Mulder a hesitant wave before disappearing around the bank of sinks towards the door.

Mulder washed the soap off his body and rinsed his hands in the sink before he finished brushing his teeth. He washed his face again, spit the remainder of the toothpaste out and put all the toiletries he used back into the plastic bag from the gift shop. The starched blue shirt with the white, blue and red flag across the left breast was going in the garbage when he got home. He didn’t want to be xenophobic toward this country he was getting out of by the skin of his teeth, but any souvenirs he collected didn’t need to be saved as a keepsake.

Mulder took his wallet, passport and plane ticket from his muddy jacket, tossed the soiled clothing into the trash bin and put on the red sweatshirt he purchased. He hoped the person sitting next to him would appreciate the lengths he went to today not to smell offensive before boarding a twenty-hour plane ride.

As the stewards were calling the first boarding call, he used the pay phone near his gate to reach out to Scully again. When there was no answer, he thanked the operator and hung up before a panic took over his mind and he worried where she could possibly be.

While he boarded the plane and passed through first class to business class, he wondered if he should have tried to call A.D. Skinner at work to see if he knew anything. Mulder didn’t want to think that she had been out all night or entertaining a man and therefore was too busy to answer. Not that it didn’t occur to Mulder that Scully had those kinds of desires and needs but he couldn’t stomach it if she did. At this point in their partnership, if she was seeing anyone, it would shock him to hear the words “I’ve met someone” since the someone they both spent the most time with was each other.

The stewardess walked through the cabin to request that everyone stow their carry-on items under their feet and fasten their seatbelts. Mulder kicked the bag of clothes with his Timberland boot.

He had plenty of time to contemplate whether or not Scully had a romantic interest in him. Mostly what he felt from her was a profound trust and friendship. Sometimes the way she looked at him was shocking, as though she was seeing through his motivations for touching her constantly. She never said anything if she minded it.

Maybe it was a lie he told himself. Something about him wanted to put his hand on her lower back, touched her arms and shoulders or hip out of chivalry as an attempt at teasing her. He could recognize his paranoia at their situation was an overreaction from the exhaustion he felt at that moment. Scully reached for him too, she hugged him and touched him in non-doctorly ways. It wasn’t all one-sided, was it?

Sleep took over his mind before he had a chance to further contemplate whether his actions were considered untoward by her. He hoped they weren’t but his mind was too tired from the horrific conditions of Tunguska to remain alert and wonder any further.

When Mulder awoke, the drink service had started and Cody was sitting in the seat across the aisle from him. The stewardess down the aisle held up the coffee pot to Mulder and he nodded in appreciation.

“You talk in your sleep,” Cody said as he sipped on a can of apple juice.

Mulder rubbed his eyes and yawned. A stewardess handed him a napkin, cookies and a coffee. He glanced at the woman in the blue uniform then over to Cody. “Do I?”

“You do,” the stewardess confirmed and gave Cody a smile before walking back towards her drink trolley.

Mulder sat up slowly in his seat and looked over at the empty seats next to him and wondered if his mother purchased the row so he could have space or if that was beyond her capabilities of thoughtfulness.

“Who is Scully?" Cody asked as he ate his cookie. He had crumbs at the edge of his mouth and chocolate on his lip. “The baseball announcer?”

“Does that sound right?” Mulder countered.

Cody shook his head and took another sip of apple juice. “No.”

“Who do you think it is?” he asked as he took a sip of coffee.

“A woman,” Cody noted.

“And?” Mulder asked. “Do you know a lot about women?”

“Not like you do,” Cody replied. “Peekaboo worked. My mom and Lylah loved it.”

“But?” Mulder prompted.

“If I was saying something in my sleep, maybe it was a big thing on my mind,” Cody said and took another bite of his cookie.

“That’s a pretty wise observation for a five-year-old,” Mulder noted.

“I’ll be _six_ in March,” Cody replied smartly and Mulder nodded as though that made all the difference. “So, is she your wife?”

“No,” he answered quickly.

“Girlfriend?” Cody asked.

“No,” Mulder replied glumly. “We work together.”

“Is she pretty?” Cody asked and Mulder nodded. “Does she like you?”

Mulder nodded again. “We’re friends.”

“Friends is good,” Cody told him. “You can’t marry someone you aren’t friends with.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to marry her,” Mulder protested with a laugh and Cody gave him a look like Mulder was lying. “I mean it. We just work together.”

Cody gave him a sidewards glance and rolled his eyes. “Sure. Maybe don’t mumble her name in your sleep anymore, then.”

Mulder looked at the back of the seat in front of him and set his coffee down as he contemplated the inquiries of the five-year-old wise-ass across the aisle. Instead of figuring it out, he pushed the arm rests up on the other seats and stretched out to appreciate the extra space.

The next thing he knew, he was being woken by a smiling face to let him know the plane landed in Washington and he needed to quickly exit the plane for the crew to clean it.

As he walked through the airport, Cody waved to him at the baggage claim and mouthed ‘Scully’ or ‘silly’ but he wasn’t sure which. Mulder gave the young man a thumbs up before hailing a cab to get home.

A long shower, food and some phone calls were the next priority to locating Scully. It was as he was tying one of his less offensive ties with his landline on speaker phone that Skinner’s office finally picked up.

“Agent Mulder,” Kimberly reacted in surprise. “A.D. Skinner isn’t in. He’s monitoring Agent Scully’s testimony.”

“Testimony?” Mulder repeated. “Where? For what?”

“Agent Scully was held in contempt of a Congressional Subcommittee for not answering their questions about your location,” Kimberly reported and he could hear her fingernails clicking away at the keyboard. “She’s been in jail since yesterday morning.”

“Son of a bitch,” Mulder said in shock. He was pretty impressed with her resilience to protect him. “Where can I find her?”

“They’re on the Hill in the Dirksen Senate Office Building,” Kimberly said. “Skinner left here about ten minutes ago.”

“Thanks,” Mulder said before hanging up.

He drove the twenty-five minutes from his apartment in Alexandria to Capitol Hill with a coffee in hand and a breakfast sandwich from the diner around the corner from his apartment cooling on the passenger seat. He ate it in the parking lot and looked for stray food before he left his car. If he stormed the hearing, he didn’t want to have literal egg on his face while trying to argue for Scully’s release from jail.

Mulder passed through another security checkpoint and found the appropriate hearing room from the board in the foyer.

Outside the double doors, he showed his badge to a deputy guard who nodded his entry. Mulder straightened his tie and wiped a hand across his mouth. The words of Senator Sorenson were echoing out through the crack in the door.

“ _Miss Scully_ ,” he warned. “You’ll get your chance with all of that.”

“Or about the biotoxin being transported within that pouch,” she was attempting to continue.

Scully’s stubbornness compared to that of biblical proportions. The woman would hold her ground over everything she believed in and he thanked his lucky stars that she believed in him.

“Answer the question, Miss Scully,” Sorenson demanded angrily.

“What is the question?” Mulder asked as he entered the hearing.

The room gasped in unison and he looked at Scully, who seemed more than relieved to see him alive. He felt another surge of longing towards her and he willed his body to stop focusing on what it couldn’t have. One would think that ten minutes in the shower that morning to work out his frustrations and desires that were bubbling inside him would be enough but apparently Mulder’s refractory time was quicker than he realized.

The gavel pounded several times to bring the courtroom to order.

“All right. Let’s come to order,” Romine admonished the viewing gallery and other members of the subcommittee. “Agent Scully, do continue.”

“Yes, sir,” she said into the microphone. “If I may, I’d like to finish making my point.”

“What is your point, Miss Scully?” Romine asked.

“That the death of Doctor Charne-Sayer, given her field of expertise, not only suggest that she knew something about the toxin, but also its origins,” Scully explained. “And that knowledge may be directly linked to the man in Assistant Director Skinner’s apartment building.”

A.D. Skinner walked into the room at that moment and did a double take at Mulder’s presence at the testimony table behind Scully. He continued forward to speak to her and she put her hand over the microphone.

“ _Miss Scully_?” Sorenson asked tersely.

“Yes, sir,” Scully began. “Uh, Assistant Director Skinner had just informed me that an accident directly related…”

“An accident?” Sorenson interrupted.

“A doctor, infected with the toxin, has died under suspicious circumstances involving the theft of evidence,” Scully began and Mulder remembered Dr. Sacks who was so eager to get his evidence. “Of the contents of the diplomatic pouch…”

“Well, we’ve gotten off to a _real fine_ start here,” Mr. Romine said sardonically. “I’m going to recess now until this new matter can be explained. So that we might then begin to move in a forward direction.”

The gavel pounded and Scully pushed away from the desk as Mulder approached her. He was going in for a hug just based on her expression when she saw him and he knew it wasn’t going to be rebuffed. This was one of those moments he could get away with a public display of affection with her that might not be questioned.

“Mulder,” she said with relief, affection and warmth as she hugged him.

Her fingers gripped the material of his jacket and he inhaled the familiar scent of her perfume. She felt small in his arms and pushed her body fully against his. He smiled at her display of need for his touch.

“It’s good to put my arms around you,” Mulder said as he rubbed her back. “Both of them.”

“When did you get back here?” she asked as they stepped back.

“It’s been a long strange trip-” he started.

“Some other time,” Skinner interrupted. “I think there’s been enough strangeness here to sort through.”

The man had impeccable timing for interruptions between he and Scully. Now wasn’t the best time to express how he had been feeling anyway but Skinner could have given them a minute.  
  
“Mulder, I’ve made several connections about this toxin, about what it might be,” she began.

“So have I,” Mulder told her.

“Sir? I need your permission to book two airfares to Boca Raton, Florida,” she said to Skinner. “It shouldn’t take more than twelve, fifteen hours but in the event that does, I need you to stall the committee tomorrow, for the purpose of-”

“If you explain it to me, Agent Scully, I’m going to have to explain it to them,” Skinner replied. He obviously wasn’t as keen to lie or possibly be held in contempt either. “I suggest you do everything in your power to make it back for tomorow’s session or I can’t help you.”

Skinner gave them a meaningful glance before walking away and giving them a moment to discuss their next move.

“Boca Raton?” Mulder repeated and held back a joke about Florida and retirement.

“Dr. Bonita Charne-Sayer is a board member and a chief physician for a chain of elder-care convalescent hospitals across the country. Guess what one of her patients died of in Boca Raton?” Scully prompted.

“More of what you’ve seen with Dr. Sacks?” Mulder guessed as they gathered up her things and she nodded. “Let’s go to Boca.”

Scully reached for his hand with hers and squeezed his fingers. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Mulder smiled at her and he allowed the feeling in his heart to fill his body. “I was worried the last conversation we were going to have was going to be about Krycek.”

Scully sighed. “I had a hard time sleeping last night.”

As they walked out of the hearing room, Mulder put his hand on her back and rubbed it again. “You can sleep on my shoulder on the flight down to Boca. I won’t mind if you drool.”

Scully’s cheeks flushed as she glanced up at him.

“ _One_ time,” she muttered under her breath. “I drooled _one_ time.”

Mulder laughed. “I think drooling is better than talking in your sleep. Apparently, I do that.”

Scully glanced up at him again. “Who said you were talking in your sleep?”

“A smart ass kid on the flight back from Russia,” Mulder said. “He had some insights into my personal life.”

She laughed. “I’ll bet.”

Mulder escorted Scully to her car and put her files and briefcase into the back seat of her car. “I’ll follow you to your place?”

“Yeah. I think we should bring an overnight bag, just in case,” she told him as she unlocked her side of the car.

“Mine is still in the trunk of my car,” he told her. “Do you need to pack one?”

Scully nodded and ducked into the driver’s seat of her car. There was a moment he thought she might kiss his cheek but maybe he was imagining it. He drove to her apartment and told his body to think of Mothmen and not the way she smelled or smiled at him. There were bigger issues at bay than the twitching in his hands when she approached that wanted to reach out to her. They had more leads to close in on for this investigation and bigger fish to fry at the moment.


	4. Half-Lies

Getting away from the refinery with an oil-soaked Mulder was easier than Scully anticipated. She called the helicopter pilot back to their location with an alert about Mulder’s condition. It took a moment of pleading but they were thankfully allowed to board the chopper for a quick evacuation from the site.

The pilot dropped them in the field across from their hotel and told them there would be a bill for cleaning the interior. Mulder reached into his oiled jacket and placed a smudged business card on the seat where he had been slumped against her.

Her suit and overcoat, by proxy of helping him across the field and back to their hotel room, had been soiled also. She doubted Mulder packed an extra jacket.

“There’s a sharp ringing in my ear,” he told her as she searched her jacket pocket for her room key.

“That’s normal after a blast exposure. It will subside,” she told him. “If it doesn’t, I’ll refer you to a specialist to get checked for tinnitus.”

“Thanks, Doc,” he half-slurred. He hooked his finger into the opening of her black coat and tugged on the material to pull her slightly towards him. “It’s in the other one.”

Scully brushed her hand past his and reached into the pocket he had been fingering. “Oh. Thanks.”

He felt the outside of his jacket and she studied him skeptically as he searched for his own key. “I think mine is here somewhere.”

He had to be exhausted. After escaping a mining camp in Russia, he flew twenty hours to Washington then hopped on the next flight with her to Florida. They took a red-eye to New York City to visit Mayhew in prison before taking another trip out to their current location.

Scully opened his jacket and found it in the front inside pocket where he had put it that morning and Mulder pointed a finger gun at her, pulling his thumb down while attempting to wink at her.

“You need a shower,” she said. “Maybe you should take your jacket and shoes off out here.”

The smell of the oil filled her nostrils as he wavered against the side of the motel. Her mind drew a parallel to the sorry for themselves look dogs often had for themselves after rolling around in mud but not being allowed in the house.

Mulder nodded and slowly shed his jacket. It fell to the pavement with a wet slop and she bent down to pick it up with two careful fingers.

“You’re going to be all oily too,” he pointed out and she shook her head to say she wasn’t too concerned. This wasn’t her favourite suit anyway.

Scully used her free hand to open his hotel room door. “Are you going to be okay, Mulder?”

“I just want to cause as little damage as I can in there. My credit card wasn’t too happy about the Russia excursion,” he explained.

Scully took her own jacket off and walked into his hotel room to fetch two of the laundry bags provided. She folded Mulder’s jacket up with hers and stuffed them inside the thick plastic bags.

“I’m going to see if Terma has a dry cleaner willing to take _this_ on,” she suggested as she set the bag down at the door.

He nodded as he used his toes to pull the heels of his once favoured pair of shoes to get them off his feet. He seemed to be compliant to whatever she was suggesting because he was clearly too tired to have a counter-idea. The jackets were probably ruined but she had to try.

The man at the refinery had nearly killed them while destroying their evidence and they had to go back to the subcommittee with nothing more than their testimony of accounts. This was the federal government and even with proof in her hands, she was going to have a slim chance of convincing them of anything.

Scully found the car keys to their rental vehicle on Mulder’s dresser and she watched as he struggled to get his suit jacket off.

“I can wait to see if the cleaner will be able to do anything about that too,” she offered.

“You going to help me out of this also?” he said suggestively as he walked into his room towards the bathroom.

He was tired but she could see the intent was there. _Good try, Mulder,_ she thought.

“Not the first time,” she pointed out in a reminder of the time she took care of him, pre and post-gun shot wound and fighting a fever from tainted water.

“I could say the same,” he quipped as he came into her eyeline. He struggled to pull his shirt from his pants. His hands slipped from the material and flew upwards. She stifled a laugh at his struggles. “Scully, this isn’t easy to do so if you’re not going to help me-”

“ _Okay_ ,” she said, cutting him off and approached him at the linoleum floor. “Okay, just… keep the comments to yourself right now.”

Mulder looked down at his feet and she wasn’t sure if his cheeks were pink from embarrassment or that was his energy level showing itself. The level of tension with their unresolved sexual yearnings could be cut with a knife and while undressing each other, it was best to keep a detached mind rather than one implying innuendo.

She used her fingertips to pull his suit jacket off and laid it over the edge of the tub. Mulder tossed his tie onto the floor and he held his chin up as she began to work on the buttons of his shirt.

It was a strange thing to be undressing him from his work attire and not be in a dreamlike state of the fantasies she tried to ignore in her waking hours. This entire scenario differed greatly from the dreams she usually had. They involved Mulder acting much more enthusiastic and pawing at her body as she was undressing him. At the current moment, Mulder was docile and compliant with her actions.

When she was about halfway down, she stopped and moved her hands to his left wrist. Carefully, she unbuttoned the cuffs on each sleeve and wondered if this would be a moment they could just ignore the palpable tension or he would need to comment on it.

It occurred to her as she moved her fingers to his other sleeve that maybe the tension could all be in her head.

As she finished the second sleeve, she looked up into his eyes and saw him watching her intently. His eyes were focused on her mouth as she licked her bottom lip. She noted the change in his breathing and his pupils dilate slightly.

 _No, the tension was definitely mutual,_ she thought and told herself she needed to dissipate it.

“Mulder,” she started.

“I didn’t say anything,” he murmured as pulled on his belt buckle but his fingers were still slick with the oil. The difficulty caused a frustrated grunt to emanate and she reached for his belt herself. “ _Well, now._ ”

“You’re not helping,” she pointed out and glanced up at him as she stepped back.

“Remember when you were happy I was alive instead of annoyed with me?” he teased as he undid his trousers. They dropped to the floor and he stepped out of them to continue the buttons on his shirt but his fingers were clearly having trouble with it. “ _Scully…_ ”

He practically whined it but after all they had been through, her annoyance was with the situation and not with him. She sighed her own frustrations and unbuttoned the last three on his shirt. She felt grateful he had donned a plain cotton T-shirt underneath that was still relatively clean and she wouldn’t have to help him out of that either.

 _Mostly relieved,_ her mind screamed and she pushed that thought away.

“I’ll be back shortly,” she said as she knelt down to pick up his suit. “Maybe you can order some food after your shower.”

“You don’t want to wash my back?” he leered.

Scully turned on the faucet for the tap and pulled the lever to activate the shower. “Now you can’t say I’ve never do that for you anymore.”

Mulder glanced at the shower and she could see a thought dancing through his mind.

“Shower,” Scully reminded him. “Order food.”

“Right,” he said and nodded once.

 

*** ***

 

The dry cleaners were willing to take on his suit but warned her about the dangers of flammable substances soaking into one’s clothing. She took the lecture, since she had to scale a fence to even get on the premises, and told them she would be back in a few hours to collect her items.

Without her trench coat, the cold air of Terma bit at her body and she rushed back to the car to call the hotel. If Mulder placed an order for pick-up, she would prefer to get it while she was out, rather than making a separate trip. Mulder didn’t answer his cell or the phone in his room, so she drove back with hopes of food being delivered.

She wanted a decent bath and she needed food in her belly. She wanted strong hands on her neck to work out the tensions her body built up while being in jail and worrying over Mulder’s well-being.

If they were Mulder’s hands… _No, don’t go there, Dana._

The last part would have to wait until she was back in D.C. because asking Mulder could just open gates of innuendo and other things she dared not contemplate away from the privacy of her own bedroom.

Mulder watched her with such fascination as though every insight into her life was an undiscovered habit of women he had never been privy to in his entire life. He mentioned once or twice he had lived with a woman at the beginning of the X-Files and she accepted that as a truth of his history. However, when she told him she had a date or she needed to stop at a CVS for a pit-stop because she was out of tampons, his face told his befuddlement.

He had seen most of her body during their first case. Clad in a bra and underpants, he checked her back with the light of a candle and saw the shape of her body. There was no mistaking that at first, his eyes took in the entirety of her form before getting eye level with her backside to see if the marks on her back were a sign of impending abduction.

It was an irrational fear but after all they had seen, she still stood by the decision to ask him to look. Frequently she looked back on decisions that lead her to these points in her life such as this motel room. She can’t help but wonder what advice she would give her younger self.

She would advise Dana in medical school to give her fellow intern Ryan a chance. Instead, she politely declined three invitations to a movie for dinners with Daniel she lied to herself about the intent of. Daniel was an amazing teacher but their involvement hurt more people than it benefitted. She would advise a younger Dana that the expectations she put on Jack Willis were never going to be met. Maybe younger Dana knew that but it would have softened the blow after a few too many hurt feelings.

She might try to tell her younger self that she was going to meet a charming, tall and handsome agent working in the basement and that while his jokes were terrible and his theories were out there, that she would come to trust him with her life. Maybe that wasn’t a warning but something to look forward to.

Her personal life suffered but she didn’t miss going for dinners with her friends from college who seemed to only know how to complain about their lives and gossiping about other classmates. She liked discussing theories, ideas and bigger pictures with Mulder. There was so much of him that excited her mind and worked his way into her heart to be a friend.

She just didn’t understand why her hormones, and apparently his, were trying to ruin a good thing they had going with wanton desires.

Scully parked their rental vehicle outside their motel room doors and quickly entered her room. The adjoining room doors were ajar but she couldn’t see Mulder as she walked towards her bathroom. She hung her jacket in the open closet, took off the sensible boots she had chosen for their trek to the refinery and shed the remainder of her clothing inside the bathroom as the tub filled with bubbly, hot water.

Just as she was shedding the last of her clothing, there was a knock on the bathroom door.

“One sec,” she called and wrapped one of the flimsy white towels around her body. She opened the door slightly to see Mulder in a T-shirt and jeans. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find the car keys,” he told her as his eyes flickered down to the towel around her form and then to her bare toes.

This was one of those moments that was crackling with desire from only a look. She felt chest flush as his eyes looked up her form and she watched his face as a grin took over his mouth. That response was new.

In the past four years of working together, he had walked in on her changing more than once and he always had the gentlemanly response of shock, an embarrassed grin and backing away with a hand over his eyes. He never made her feel uncomfortable or anxious about their proximity, his touches or affection.

“They’re in my purse,” she told him quietly as she wished she could will away the pink rising in her cheeks.

He said nothing and she worried if she spoke again her voice would betray her. This moment needed a cold bucket of water thrown on it because the alternative was dangerous. While sides of Dana Scully appreciated danger to a degree, when it came to Mulder there were different lines than past relationships. There was more to her partnership than Mulder than her previous romantic entanglements and more at stake. Maybe she was minimizing the reprecussions for falling into bed with her past instructors but those things didn’t feel as big as what the X-Files had presented to them. Repercussions for partners who got involved along with the thin ice their deparment seemed to be on frequently, were more dangerous than anything she had faced. What they both wanted, still, was answers.

She needed space between them to create some semblance of balance to normality.

It was a strange balancing act to remain friends with the chemistry they had. They made each other laugh, they infuriated each other, they worked so well together and she felt like the best parts of herself thrived in their partnership. She told herself some half-lies to keep herself from contemplating romantic notions of Mulder.

Mulder cleared his throat and she let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“Um... The food?” she finally managed.

Mulder glanced down at her towel again as he nodded in his understanding. He returned to her shortly with her purse in hand. He might invade every area of her life but he at least had the decency to avoid snooping in her purse.

Scully dug the keys from the side pocket of her purse and deposited them into Mulder’s palm. He grinned at her and gave her towel clad form another glance before she pushed him out of the frame and closed the thin door as he chuckled at his amusement.

“Are you okay to drive?” she called through the door.

“You wanna take me in your outfit?” Mulder called back.

He was fine.

As she soaked in the tub, she thought about the purposeful glances Mulder was giving her. He knew what he was doing with the glances and it didn’t make her feel anything but frustrated. If his intent was to joke around with nothing behind it, she could play along except Mulder looked at two things with an intended desire to taste that she couldn’t ignore: sunflower seeds and her.

He could sit across from her with a seed between his teeth as she tried to convince him not everything was a labyrinth of dark conspiracies with people plotting to deceive, inveigle and obfuscate without fully listening to her. She saw the slight tenting in his pants as he cracked a seed in response. It was one of the strangest places she had received a look from him that challenged and excited her. It was infuriating and confusing as though he was trying everything in his power to flirt his way to seeing his side.

Scully scrubbed a loofah across her skin and thought about how much had changed between them. At the beginning of their partnership, she said he was too obsessed with his work because she was embarrassed that she told Ellen he was cute. After her abduction, she could sense his fears of her coming back to work with him. Her mind had created a block after the trauma of what was done to her and her priorities had shifted to align more with Mulder’s. In the next year, her body began to experience the bubbling feelings awakening, however the work had consumed her life. Her downtime shifted drastically from time with friends to reading scientific journals to keep up on the latest reported strange phenomenons in an attempt to never be stumped by Mulder.

Eventually she had to get out of the tub and face Mulder. She couldn’t live in Terma, North Dakota in that motel bathroom forever. Mulder was too focused on finding truths and her mother might worry when she didn’t show up for Easter dinner.

She dried off and stood in the bathroom with the cold air tingling every exposed inch of her skin. It was as she was finishing rubbing the vanilla scented lotion onto her legs that she heard a noise from Mulder’s room. She quickly pulled on her robe and ran through the adjoining doors to find him sitting on the floor with the bag of food at his feet.

“Mulder!” she knelt down at his side and put her hands on either side of his face. “Mulder?”

His face was pale and he was sweating. “Scully?”

She felt his head and noted a low fever. “Did they give you something in Russia?”

“You’d never believe me,” he muttered.

“Try me,” she urged as she helped him sit up slowly. “Pretend I’m someone who saw some things over the last week that opened her eyes to extreme possibilities.”

He studied her face before closing his eyes as he recalled what had been done to him. “They poured that black oil over us to infect us with the same stuff that Dr. Sacks died of.”

“Oh my god,” she whispered as she covered her face. “You’re not showing-”

“They gave us a vaccine,” Mulder told her. He pulled up the sleeve on his T-shirt and showed her the injection site. “Whatever that rock is carrying, I think the Russians found a cure.”

“Can you sit up on the bed?” Scully asked. “I just want to take some vitals.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he insisted but sat up on the bed anyway.

“That’s my line,” she teased as she left the room to get her medical kit. She returned with her stethoscope around her neck and her bag in hand. “Say ‘ _ah_ ’.”

Mulder opened his mouth and she used a depressor to look down his throat. She felt the glands on his throat and noted a slight swelling but nothing worrisome. Using her penlight, she looked in his eyes and checked for signs of a concussion.

“How’s your head?” she asked as she glanced down at him. “Are you okay, Mulder?”

"Uh..." Mulder’s eyes were fixated on the V of skin her robe had exposed. “My eyeline is dangerous.”

She quickly tucked the material closer together with the tie around her waist and her cheeks burned. It wasn’t the first time he had caught a glimpse of more than he should, however it was still slightly awkward. They could go on with their professional relationship as a partnership of minds but sometimes, the biology of their sexes was blatant. It was difficult to ignore all the time.

“Sorry,” he atoned and cleared his throat. “What were you asking?”

“Your head? The one up here?”

“Thanks for clarifying, Scully,” Mulder smirked. “It’s throbbing a little and I don't know... Low blood sugar or something. I think I’m just hungry.”

“What did you get, Mulder?” she asked as she glanced over to the plain paper bag on the floor, sitting on its bottom end.

“Chinese,” he said quietly.

Scully hadn’t had decent Chinese since their last late night working session before he disappeared off to Russia. “Chinese sounds great.”

Mulder stayed sitting on the bed.

She moved toward the bag of food but it was heavy and awkward with her robe on. “Are you going to help me?”

Mulder’s cheeks were pink now too. “I don’t think I should stand up just yet.”

It was her turn for her cheeks to pink. “I’m going to get dressed.”

“Take your time.” Mulder’s voice was hoarse and the desire was heavy within his words.

_Woo boy._


	5. Alternative Facts

As they ate their noodles in relative silence, Mulder shifted in his seat a few times. He felt embarrassed about the reaction his body had but how else could a man react to a woman in a robe? Especially when it fell open and he saw more than he should.

His subconscious reminded him of the moment between him and Marita in her New York City apartment. She stood before him, sauntering around in the low light and speaking to him in a breathy tone without a physical reaction from his body. This was more than just a man and woman in close proximity. His body reacted because it was Scully.

Because it was her, he felt the familiar tingling surges of desire that prevented him from standing up to show the slight bulge. He couldn’t cross the room to take care of the bag of food he picked up by sitting on the bed where he caught a glimpse of her chest. It was more than a glimpse. He saw the curve of her breast unsupported by a sensible bra and the soft skin along her chest. He saw the three freckles under her right breast that looked similar to Orion’s belt.

Now he had to think of that every time he looked at her. These were intimate details a man shouldn’t have of his female partner. His female partner had intimate knowledge of his body also and somehow still managed not to get slightly aroused that she couldn’t walk. Mulder’s mind reminded him of their physical make-up and that women have outwardly visible displays of arousal like men did. Then he started thinking about the swelling that did happen to a woman’s-

_No, Mulder_ don’t _think about that._

Scully cleared her throat. “I was thinking-”

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he cut her off.

He wasn’t looking to rehash why or what happened but he felt like he should apologize anyway. He saw cleavage in front of him and he looked. He didn’t see the whole breast but he had enough of an idea now and they both had to live with that.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” she said as she waved her hand in front of her as to wipe it away. “I wanted to talk about the vaccine they gave you.”

At this moment, he didn’t know if the work distracting them from sexual tensions was a blessing or a curse.

“What about it?” he asked.

“Well, I’d like to run some blood tests on you when we get back to work,” she began. “If they injected you with anything, Mulder, it would be in there. You deserve to know what they’ve done to you.”

“I should be saying that to you,” he pointed out.

There still wasn’t justice after her abduction. The only one who paid for any injustice towards her was Duane Barry and his death still didn’t feel like enough. He was merely a pawn or a tool.

“I don’t really want to get into that,” she said and he gave her a look that told her they really should. “After all that’s happened, is it going to help us?”

He stood up from the table by the window of the room angrily. “What are you worried about? If we go back too far that we’ll see all the lies or just how it’s hurt you?”

“Mulder-”

“I’m serious, Scully,” he pushed. “It all goes back to your abduction.”

“I think it goes back further than that, Mulder,” she pointed out to him. “It goes back to your sister. They were willing to take a child as insurance from a family to prevent them from talking.”

“And look what it got the Mulder family?” he said acerbically. “My father is dead, versions of my sister keep popping up but turn out to be alien clones and I don’t know what to believe anymore about what happened to her.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Mulder sat down heavily in his chair again and put his hands in his head. “What if I made up this abduction story in my head about Samantha’s disappearance because something else happened to her?”

“What if it wasn’t an alien abduction?” she repeated and he looked at her in pain. She smiled sadly and he groaned as he sat up. 

_Who the fuck even has to contemplate that in their life?_

He shook his head in frustration before it turned into a reluctant nod. “Yeah.”

She sighed as she sat down her chopsticks on her napkin and rubbed her temples. “Maybe… Maybe it wasn’t an alien abduction but your sister is missing.”

“You lost three months-” he started.

“But I came back,” she interrupted. “Samantha didn’t.”

Her desire to help him find his sister over the truth behind her disappearance was just one of the most endearing things about her.

“You said it yourself when we met those women in Allentown, Pennsylvania, that you didn’t think that it was aliens but men who took you,” Mulder reminded her as he reached across the table for her hand. “I’m agreeing with you. I owe it to you to find out what happened and get justice for your abduction or kidnapping or whatever the fuck you want to call it.”

“You lost your father,” she reminded him gently and squeezed his fingers.

“And you lost your sister,” he continued. “I’m not saying that my sister isn’t connected to the work my father did but I’m saying it could also be completely separate. Of all the things I want to find, the truth behind what we’ve lost is paramount.”

She pulled her hand away and sniffed. “I want these men brought to justice too, Mulder. Even if Krycek says they can’t be.”

“Fuck that guy,” Mulder grumbled as he looked down at his hands. “And his stupid ass haircut.”

Scully wiped at her nose and Mulder caught the bright red on the napkin. “ _Oh_.”

“That’s the third one you’ve had in the last month,” he noted as he got up to look for the complimentary box of tissues on the sink outside the bathroom.

“It’s the dry air,” she rationalized and took a tissue from the box he presented to her. “Thank you.”

Mulder knelt in front of her as she dabbed at her nose. She pulled the tissue away and looked down with an arched eyebrow. “See? All done.”

He put his hands on her knees and rubbed his thumbs reassuringly. The reassurance was for him but, like the hug, he could play it off as a gesture of kindness if questioned about it later.

“Maybe you should get it checked out.”

Her eyebrow arched farther. “Can you keep yourself out of trouble long enough for me to go to the doctor?”

“I thought you were able to diagnose yourself,” he teased back with a grin. “Isn’t the phrase ‘physician, health thyself’ or something?”

She scoffed and rolled up the bloody tissue inside another clean one. “I don’t think I can examine my own head for indicators behind infrequent nosebleeds.”

Mulder grinned. “I could give _you_ an examination.”

“Go sit down,” she ordered but the smile on her lips gave away she wasn’t totally annoyed with him.

He took a bite of his ginger beef broccoli as she got up from the table to throw out her Kleenex. When she was returning to the table, the phone rang on Mulder’s night stand.

“Ca ye geh tha?” he said through a mouthful of food.

She made a face and picked up the receiver. “Agent Mulder’s room.”

There was a pause and Scully looked down at her shoes while nodding. Mulder assumed it was Skinner calling because she tended to change her demeanour while conversing with him. Her shoulders stood a little straighter but she was less argumentative than when she tossed theories back and forth with Mulder.

“I see. Yes sir,” Scully replied and listened for a moment longer before she hung up the phone. “That was Skinner.”

Mulder gave himself ten points for being right and he swallowed the food in his mouth. “Are we in deep doo doo?”

“He was able to stall the subcommittee until tomorrow morning but we’ll have to catch the first flight home,” she reported.

“I guess my suit is a loss,” Mulder grumbled.

“I gave the dry cleaner my business card. I’m sure he’d be willing to send it back at your cost,” she replied.

Scully and her silver-linings might be something he could list in his head but he wasn't really able to piece that together right now.

Mulder nodded. “Probably cheaper than a new suit.”

Scully sat down on Mulder’s bed and rubbed at her temples. “Can you get me two acetaminophen from my bag? I think I left it over there.”

He grabbed her medical bag from his dresser and brought it over to her feet with a bottle of water. Inside the centre pouch was a handful of tools he had seen her use and glass phials of labelled RX drugs. He pulled out a couple in panic he might have to give her an injection.

“It’s in a regular pill bottle,” she said. “Next to the condoms.”

Mulder’s heart stopped for a second and he saw the silver foil packets at the edge of the bag next to a bottle with a red lid. “When you’re feeling better, you’ll have to tell me why you have a ten pack in there.”

Scully’s cheeks pinked but not like when she grabbed his belt to take off his pants. The sheer will he had not to get hard at a moment like that was impressive and if he had anyone to brag about that to he would.

He popped the lid off the bottle and dumped a few into his palm for her. She plucked two from the middle and stuck them between her teeth as she opened her bottle of water.

As she swallowed the pills, Mulder watched her face but he wasn’t really equipped to diagnose anything.

“We’re a pair,” he said with a laugh.

He felt a little more relieved about what happened between them earlier. If they could laugh, it would be fine and he didn't have to worry there would be a repercussion with Skinner when they returned to Washington. The last thing he wanted to hear from his boss' mouth was ' _what am I hearing about unwanted advances?'_

Scully cleared her throat. “The condoms…”

Mulder sat on the bed. “I’m all ears.”

She grinned. “It’s not for what you think.”

“That’s disappointing,” he jested and she nudged him. “What are they for?”

“They protect glass evidence collection tubes from breaking,” she told him quietly. She took another sip of her water. “I'm sorry it’s not more salacious.”

“I’m a little relieved it’s not,” he admitted and she raised an eyebrow at him. “I mean, I’m sure you _date_ -”

“Not in a while,” she cut him off and she caught his expression. “Don’t make fun of me.”

Mulder shook his head with his hands up in defense. “It’s been longer than that for me.”

She looked up from her hands and set her water bottle on his nightstand. “I thought Detective White-”

“That definitely didn’t count as a date,” he insisted and she rolled her eyes. “It _wasn’t_. She showed up at my room and climbed on top of me. It was almost assault.”

“I thought that was your type,” she scoffed and stood up from the bed. "Tall, amazon women."

She walked back to the table and sat down with a slight pout on her face. Scully acting jealous of other women was rare. He felt it came out of a place of protection rather than romantic notions, especially after Pheobe Greene. He didn’t like men sniffing around Scully either but he didn’t exactly have any claim on her.

“That’s not… my…” he started but what was he supposed to say?

Did he fantasize about Scully in sexual ways when he was in the shower or trying to fall asleep? _Sure_. It wasn’t something he took any pride in but he stopped wondering why that worked for him ages ago. She was a desirable woman but the probability of her feeling the same towards him wasn’t always clear.

“It’s fine, Mulder. I think we should just finish our notes on what happened at the refinery and try to locate the man who rented the truck,” she said with a determined professionalism. There was a beat in the air and she sighed. “Personal relationships have never been my strong suit.”

He sat across from her. “You think a guy who is trying to prove the existence of extraterrestrials has a great track record? How do you bring that up on a date, let alone discuss your work life without scaring a person into calling the cops?”

“It’s not easy at family functions either,” she replied. She smiled a little and he felt better. “Getting close to people is hard for me. I like what you and I have.”

He felt worse.

She looked into his eyes and she looked right through him with a piercing blue gaze. “You’re my best friend.”

Now he felt like a jerk.

“And you’re mine,” he said.

They smiled a little and she looked down at her food in an attempt to hide her expression.

“Eat your dinner,” she suggested and picked up her chopsticks.

“You’re so _bossy_ ,” he quipped but he did as he was told.


End file.
